


Total Recall

by Nebulad



Series: Whiskey Molotov [22]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Fluff, Gen, far harbour, synth!sole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, I’ve been doing some research on my own and I’ve got something you can do to make it up to me,” she said, flopping back to lay next to him. She fished a folded up piece of paper out of her pants, holding it up between two fingers. “Pulled some strings with my new best friends at Acadia and got them to contact Tom for me. This, my friend, is my recall code.”</p><p>“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he asked, purposely not reaching for the paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Total Recall

Deacon had been doing his best to avoid her, which was sort of impressive. Far Harbour was big, but not _that_ big. It wasn’t as easy as putting on an umpire’s outfit and blending in with Diamond City Security, though Audrey did take special care to really _look_ at the ferals she was shooting. Just in case.

When she finally found him, it was mid-costume change. He had one leg in a pair of torn up black nylon shorts while he hopped around trying to get the other one in. She frowned. “Are you supposed to be DiMa?”

His hopping stopped and he immediately straightened up to lean casually against the workshop in Longfellow’s storage cabin. In his underwear. “I mean, not yet. There was a little stage make-up involved and some vacuum tubes, _but_ I guess the jig is up.”

“Why haven’t I seen you in two weeks, Deacon?” she asked flatly. She knew why, but he had to say it. He had to start this confrontation, because this whole ugly mess could have been avoided if he’d just… trusted her a little bit. It was a lot to ask from him, but she thought that was part of the whole friendship deal.

He stayed quiet for a second, then groaned and threw himself backwards on the spare mattress laying by his feet. “Because I knew you were a synth and didn’t tell you. And you’re smart, so you knew that I knew the second that I didn’t try and talk you out of it like everyone else. I gambled, figuring that if I tried to talk you out of it you’d know that I knew for sure. That’s _sort of_ blew up in my face.”

“I know you too well,” she offered.

“Sunglasses just aren’t hiding my tells anymore. Maybe I’ll get a new face. That should give me a solid two months to figure out something more perma— _oh_ what if I went ghoul?” He was trying to change the subject and she wondered if it was because he was guilty or because he thought he could make her forget what they were talking about.

“Wouldn’t work.”

“How would you know?”

“Hancock?” She had plenty of practice reading ghoul facial expressions. Deacon frowned.

“You know you having a boyfriend has really been putting a damper on our friendship,” he scolded. She sat down next to him.

“I was dating him when we met, Dee,” she reminded him. As if he’d forgotten. “Now shut up so we can talk. When did you know that I was a synth?”

“Is this a conversation we should be having while I don’t have pants on?”

“They’re mostly on, now talk.” He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. His hair was growing in and it was definitely ginger, but she didn’t want to derail him again by pointing it out.

“Tom told Dez and I happened to be hiding in between this really big crack in the wall because he looked really freaked out and not in the usual way,” he said quickly. “It was a few days after you got back from the Institute, and I figured you had too much on your plate to just… plop that one down too. Dez was keeping it from you because she thought it would compromise your mission.”

“And neither of you were ever going to tell me?” she demanded.

“Well I can’t speak for Dez, but _eventually_ I was gunna say something. I mean you’d probably notice after a while that you weren’t getting any older, but while you were messed up about the Institute it seemed like a bad time. Then you got better and you were happy again so I didn’t wanna wreck that. I figured when you started to get suspicious I could suggest _hey let’s go look at the data that Tom has stored_ and then it would be like _oh man I totally didn’t know you were a synth but isn’t it great I knew where to look._ ”

She got that. It wasn’t what she would’ve done— hell, she told everyone immediately. It was important that people knew what they were, and unless they’d taken special steps like the synths that the Railroad helped, it was their right to know. Like the girl at Acadia with the faulty mind-wipe. Cog had said it would ruin her life, but what sort of life was she living in constant pain and without any idea who she was? Faraday said they hadn’t had a choice, but no one had a gun to their head to bring their friend back online and damn the consequences. It was hard, but humans didn’t drag their dying friends over to the Glowing Sea to try and make ghouls. The consequences outweighed the positive aspects.

Deacon only knew those synths who didn’t want to know what they were. He knew synths that were happier and safer because they thought that they were humans, and she couldn’t blame him for thinking that maybe _she_ would be better off living as a human until it just wasn’t possible anymore. She’d _expected_ that sort of answer from him, and long since decided to do what she thought he would do in her situation.

“Well, I’ve been doing some research on my own and I’ve got something you can do to make it up to me,” she said, flopping back to lay next to him. She fished a folded up piece of paper out of her pants, holding it up between two fingers. “Pulled some strings with my new best friends at Acadia and got them to contact Tom for me. This, my friend, is my recall code.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he asked, purposely not reaching for the paper.

“Hilarious. But honestly I was thinking about it and… I mean I don’t know what kind of weird shit got implanted in me. It would be one thing if I was just an escaped synth, but I’m supposed to be the Director’s mom. What if he implanted some killswitch or failsafe?”

“Tinker Tom’s special injection probably cleared that right up,” he said, rolling his shoulders.

“Look, Dee. As a favour to me—”

“Nope.”

“Hey fuck you, I took _your_ paper.”

“I was _lying.”_

“No _way.”_ She held it out to him, awkwardly bending her elbow to the side so her knuckles were resting against his chest with the paper still there. It was uncomfortable so she just split the difference and rolled over to lay on him, getting them both nice and snug. “Come on Dee,” she muttered.

“No. There was no part of our friendship clause that said I have to take your stupid kill-code,” he said, pulling his arms around her. “Give it to Hancock. I’m pretty sure he’s obligated to help kill you at some point.”

“It’s not the same. I told you, this is to make it up to me for dropping my big reveal,” she said, looking up at him. She couldn’t see his stupid eyes that he’d only ever let her see once in the dark and she couldn’t even pretend she was mad at him. She knew him too well— he was more upset about how she found out than she was.

He was quiet for a while, then snatched the paper out of her hand. “I’m not reading it,” he told her pointedly, looking like he wanted the jam the code in a pocket he didn’t have.

“Whatever floats your boat,” she assured him, making herself well and truly comfortable. She totally planned on falling asleep like that, him with only one leg in a flimsy pair of pants and both of them stuffed onto the spare mattress in Longfellow’s cramped backyard shed. _That_ was for avoiding her and being such a dodgy dick about her stupid recall code.

“Wow so you’re just gunna knock out right there, huh?” he asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Objections?”

“None at all boss. Whatever floats your boat.”

. . . . .

It’s probably like, 3am when curiosity gets the best of him. Audrey slept through both Hancock _and_ Cait coming to make sure they weren’t dead in the woods or something, so she was well and truly down for the count, so there was no reason that he couldn’t just… peek. And there was one small, nagging part of him that was afraid he was gunna accidentally say it out loud once he knew, but a temporarily larger part that reminded the smaller part to shut the hell up and let him work. So he opened her paper.

 _You can't trust everyone_ _._ Even a little heart and a winky face for flourish. A joke— not like his lesson, not meant to be taken seriously. She was _lying._

“You’re a dick,” he said into the open air. She laughed, even faking being _asleep_ , and he allowed an even smaller, more withered part of himself to be glad that he didn’t actually have her fucking wipe code. That was a fucked up five hours of deliberation.

God he owed her such a fancy dinner for pulling that shit on her in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> So Audrey has a few other significant people in her life and that includes Deacon. Clearly. I'm super tired sorry I've got nothing witty to say I have to get up early to work tomorrow and it's making me feel oogie. [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com) and I'm usually funnier when I feel less ugh.


End file.
